


Made in Wokingham

by Leonawriter



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin was made to fly. The problem is, most people don't take this literally enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made in Wokingham

It wasn't, exactly, a huge secret. For one thing, it was on his resume by legal requirement - there were some groups that that it was unnecessary, but to Martin, it didn't make much difference either way - and for another, if someone really wanted to find out, it wouldn't take all that much effort to. 

He could still remember the look in Carolyn's eyes when he came walking up through the portacabin door, like the proverbial cat that had the canary by the tail feathers. Not everyone could afford a pilot that didn't need to rest as frequently or that didn't need to eat. And apparently in Carolyn's mind, it didn't matter how many times it had taken for him to pass requirements, as long as he  _could_ fly.

When he had weakly protested at how he'd been okay with being paid less than the last pilot, okay, a _lot_ less, but he wasn't keen on being paid  _nothing_ , he was asked what exactly he'd use the money on. He'd be flying, wouldn't he? Wasn't that what he had, quite literally, been made for? And as the  _Captain_ , no less.

Arthur knew before he even had a uniform in his size. He'd walked into the office to collect it and had been asked if he wanted tea or coffee or anything, but before he'd been able to respond the steward had apologised, correcting himself.

Douglas was the last to find out. He kept up a habit of asking Arthur for a coffee - black, no sugar or milk - just to smell it, and just to make Douglas think he needed it but always forgot to drink it.

He couldn't lie. It was nice to have someone think he was human.

Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to have been born to a mother and father in Wokingham, maybe he'd have had brothers and sisters, too. Instead of having been factory manufactured piece by piece, perfected and tested just like all the others that had come from the same line as he had. They all had different names, slightly different appearances, but all of the others had simply walked out one day, ready-made pilots.

While most people had a belly button, Martin Crieff and his kind had a stamp that read 'Made in Wokingham', much like toys and the like read 'Made in China' on the tags.

Douglas thought he was a prat. A monumental berk, in Carolyn's words. Everything he found that irritated and aggravated him about Martin, it was all down to Martin, not what Martin was made of. There was a difference, a big one, and even though Martin hated the teasings and the ribbings he got, at least it was because of  _who_ he was, not  _what_ he was.

Some didn't have that luxury.

It wasn't to last, though - Douz was a close call, with the air conditioning failing and Martin fearing that his own circuits would fry before anything more of Gertie's did. The Fitton standby that one time was even harder, although made simpler by the fact that, as Douglas had previously pointed out, vodka and water were exchangeable - and his body knew more about what to do about water than it did alcohol.

That, though, was the start of it - Douglas wanted to know why the Captain was sober when he didn't need to be. Then Douglas started paying more attention to how little Martin ate or drank on flights, which was to say, very little at all to the point of absolute nothing.

It came out as they were flying halfway over Africa. Douglas had made some inane comments, and made Martin believe for a good long while that Douglas had already figured it out, he just wanted Martin to confess already, and only when he'd actually outright  _said_ it did Douglas admit that no, he hadn't been certain. Not until just now. But thank you for setting him straight, Captain.

He'd taken it well enough. It was clear it wasn't actually something worth even attempting to hold over Martin, since both of the others knew already. And if anyone else found out, it would hardly be something Martin would be teased about, unless it was the fact that he was working for a company like MJN itself.

Instead, it merely became something else that slotted into normal daily life. He'd still ask Arthur for his coffee even if it still didn't end up being drunk and had to be poured down the drain. He no longer bothered pretending he needed to eat, which Carolyn surely appreciated, although there were a fair few times when Douglas half-jokingly, half-seriously offered to share some of the run-off of fuel from Gertie, to which Martin's terse reply had been that while it wasn't quite the same as feeding a rabbit cheetah food, it certainly wouldn't do him any  _good_ , and he'd have to spend days getting it out of his system.

Besides. Although he didn't get paid to be a pilot, his after-hours job as a man with a van  _did_ pay, and because he didn't need human necessities, he could afford some small luxuries. Such as the right kinds of oils. Charging cables. Replacements, when he couldn't keep going on what he had. That sort of thing.

He was built to fly, after all. You couldn't pay him to stay on the ground, when all he'd ask for would be a pair of wings with which to soar.

...

AN: Author is in the middle of a canon review. And still hasn't caught up with Zurich. But here, have this in the meantime!


End file.
